


Noblesse Oblige

by MoiraiThanatoio



Series: First Principles [2]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, Criminal Minds, Hannibal - Thomas Harris, Red Dragon - Thomas Harris, Silence of the Lambs - Thomas Harris
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, Early in Canon, M/M, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:51:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoiraiThanatoio/pseuds/MoiraiThanatoio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A promise was made about Nick’s safety. Walter Gordon’s conspirator finds out the hard way that one does not interfere with the promises of a psychopath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Noblesse Oblige

**Author's Note:**

> CSI episode ‘Daddy’s Little Girl’ was far too easy an ending. I like this one better. CM episode ‘What Fresh Hell?’ had a comment at the end while the team was playing cards on the plane that Reid was from Las Vegas. I decided to keep that.

Aaron Hotchner looked up from the files on Gideon’s desk and rubbed at his forehead. “If you’re right about this…”

Jason took the earpiece of his glasses out of his mouth and shrugged. “If I’m wrong, we’ve got more data on Strowler. If I’m right, maybe we keep a few people alive.”

“Including Strowler,” Aaron remarked dryly. “I’ll ready the team. We’ll brief in the air.”

***

As Gideon and Hotchner were both on the phone, Derek, Elle, and Spencer had angled their chairs to chat.

“Does anyone know why we’re going to Las Vegas?” Morgan asked, rolling his head on the seat back.

“Maybe it’s to let Reid here clean up for us.”

Spencer held his hands up defensively. “I told you. It’s all statistics.”

Derek chuckled. “That wouldn’t keep you from using your powers to make us all a little richer.”

Reid blushed. “Actually, I can’t. I was banned from most of the casinos.”

Before they could demand explanations, Jason had joined them and Hotchner was speaking.

“Okay, kids. We have a complicated one on our hands.”

Gideon took over, passing out their first reference files. “Charles Strowler. His specialty is helping persons with a grudge against law enforcement. We have forty-three documented cases of his involvement in a homicide. Previously, no survivors.”

“Previously?” Derek questioned.

Hotchner took over. “Las Vegas, Nevada. We believe he assisted Walter Gordon in burying a crime scene investigator alive in a plexiglass box wired to explode.”

Spencer was growing pale, his knuckles bone white as he clenched his hands into fists.

“What was different about this one?” Elle inquired.

It was Reid who answered, not referring to any of the files or documents. “His supervisor located the burial point based on an ant species. They found a way to rebury him once the box was unlatched and pull him out before the explosives activated.”

Gideon was watching Spencer with pursed lips, considering the youngest member of the team. Aaron glanced between the pair, receiving a nod from Jason before he continued, “Our first complication, ladies and gentlemen.”

He dropped a picture of Gil Grissom on the table. It was obviously an official identification photograph but the likeness was good.

“Shit!” Derek exclaimed. “I thought he was dead. Witness protection?” he asked.

Hotchner shook his head. “William Graham Ardgall is dead. This is his brother, Gilliam Grissom Ardgall. He’s the supervisor that was instrumental in the rescue of Nick Stokes.”

“We can’t do this to him,” Spencer blurted out. He looked directly at Gideon, pleading. “Our presence will be misread. You know what will happen.”

“I don’t understand,” Elle commented, confused.

Aaron laid down the next picture. “Our other complication.”

Spencer closed his eyes rather than meet the maroon gaze staring up.

“Oh, fuck,” Derek intoned quietly.

Jason reached out, flipping the photograph of Hannibal Lecter face down without comment on the general shocked paleness of the team. “Within the last year, Gilliam Grissom shot and killed Clarice Starling.”

The pale faces went even colder, Gideon continuing automatically. “A détente of sorts was declared. Lecter returned Mr. Stokes unharmed from where he was being held as a guarantee and Dr. Grissom continued to decline the FBI’s recruitment efforts.”

Reid swallowed heavily, looking like he was about to throw up. Hotchner passed out the final documents.

“We should expect our cooperation to be in the Charles Strowler case. The FBI would like to apprehend Dr. Lecter, yes. However, please review his file and do not doubt that he is a very dangerous man. We have reason to believe that Dr. Lecter is already in or in transit to Las Vegas.”

***

The casual noise of the nightshift flowed over and around Grissom without disturbing him. He knew the team was not comfortable with him now. They tried to pretend, to forget, but there were certain things that would always stick.

A cup of coffee appeared in front of Gil.

“From Greg’s stash, you looked like you might need it.”

Gil smiled as the bearer seated himself across the table. He lifted the steaming cup, taking a moment to consider the Texan. They had been connected in an odd way by the Starling incidents. Then, again, by the Gordon case. Both involved Nick’s kidnapping. Both involved strong elements of Gil’s participation in the rescue.

Grissom glanced at the chattering knot standing near the wall and then back to Nick’s easy but aware grin. “Thank you, Nicky.”

Nick’s eyes flickered over the same path Grissom’s had followed. “Anytime.”

There might have been more said between them but a new voice spoke just inside the open door. “Gil?”

It was rare that anyone other than Catherine or Ecklie addressed him so casually. The room fell silent as they considered the gawky newcomer, his gun an awkward presence at his waist.

“Spencer,” Grissom acknowledged, sounding only pleased. There was more than one mouth hanging open when he crossed the room and hugged the young man.

They entered a flurry of silent conversation using their hands that drew only smiles from both participants. Just about the time Catherine was going to insist on an introduction, Ecklie appeared with another man.

Gil’s hand movements faltered. “Agent Gideon,” he greeted in a subdued voice.

The man nodded, gruffly acknowledging, “Dr. Ardgall.”

Grissom flinched, turning to Spencer with resigned betrayal. “You’re home on business, then.”

“I’m sorry,” was the soft, regretful answer.

Gil shook his head, shouldering his way out of the room. He ignored Ecklie calling after him as the room filled. Conrad left the nightshift alone with the new arrivals as they spread out.

A tallish suited man with dark brown hair and a serious mien stepped forward. “I’m Agent Aaron Hotchner, FBI. These are Agents Gideon, Morgan, Greenway, and Dr. Reid. We’re with the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

The CSIs stood for a moment, stunned. It was Nick who asked, frozen to his seat, “Are you here about… Because of Grissom?”

Hotchner’s head tilted slightly. “No, Mr. Stokes. We’re here because of you.”

As they digested that news, Gideon spoke, still leaning against the wall. “Walter Gordon had help by the name of Charles Strowler. All of Strowler’s victims died, until you. We have reason to believe he’ll either try again or recruit Kelly Gordon to do so.”

Nick swallowed hard, unable to break the gaze he’d locked with the older profiler. Something flickered in those eyes. It was the similarity to when Grissom was leaving something out that caused Nick to ask, “Why are you here, specifically? Why not the local office?”

Grissom took that moment to return. “We have work to do,” he stated brusquely. Handing out assignment slips, he sent out each person other than Nick. Him, he directed, “Wait in my office. You’ll be helping me tonight.”

The room emptied of its usual CSI occupants with only a smattering of curious glances at Grissom. He closed the door after the last with a snap, isolating himself with the agents. When he spoke, he didn’t address Hotchner and he pointedly ignored Reid.

He spoke to Gideon.

“This isn’t just about Strowler.”

Jason glanced down and then said simply, “No.”

Gil closed his eyes for a moment, wishing he hadn’t heard that response. “Hannibal?” he asked sotto voce.

“Gordon’s actions,” Hotchner began. “May be considered a violation of the protection that he placed on Mr. Stokes. If he’s not here already, we believe he’ll be arriving shortly.”

Without another word, Grissom turned and left the room.

“That went well,” Derek quipped.

***

They’d finished processing the crime scene and were headed back to the lab when Nick finally spoke up. “Gris?”

“Yeah, Nick?”

“Why’d you have me help at a scene you could have handled yourself?”

The lack of oncoming traffic hid the faint flush that passed across Grissom’s face. “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

Nick humphed. “I suppose I should be glad you didn’t restrict me to the lab.”

“I considered it,” Gil admitted. But he hadn’t wanted Nick in constant proximity to the BAU agents.

“So what’s up with you and that Spencer kid?” Nick asked, changing the subject.

“That kid is nearly your age.”

“Avoidance tactic, Gris.”

Gil smiled in the dark. “Spencer was a student of mine.”

“Like Sara.”

Grissom chuckled. “Not quite like Sara.”

After all, he’d never touched Sara. If there was one thing he gave thanks for, it was that she was too creeped out to keep hitting on him.

Nick stared at Gil for a long moment, his perceptive eyes cutting through the night. “Do you think this guy is going to try to kill me? Again.”

“Probably,” was the admission after a delay. “They don’t take failure well, in general.”

“It’s enough to make a guy hesitant to go home alone,” Nick uttered casually.

“If you’re nervous, you have options.”

Nick flashed a quick grin into the interior of the car. “That’s awfully generous of you, Gris.”

Gil turned to him with a quizzical expression as they pulled into the lab lot.

“Are you sure I won’t be in the way at your place for a few days?”

Grissom shook his head. He could admit to himself that he’d been had… and didn’t mind a bit. “Of course not, Nick.”

***

“Nick, you have a minute?”

He sighed but turned away from the exit and his plan of waiting for Grissom. “Of course, Catherine.”

Following her into her office, he recognized the look and sat with patient expectation.

“I don’t think you staying with Grissom is a good idea.”

“Why not?”

Catherine’s eyes shifted away guiltily. “Do you really think FBI profilers are here because of Gordon?”

Butter wouldn’t melt in Nick’s mouth. “No. They’re here for the cop killer who assisted him.”

“Nick,” was a faint unexplained plea.

“Look, Catherine,” Nick paused, running a hand through his hair. “I report to you and you report directly to Ecklie, right?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to discourage me from seducing him.”

Her eyes shot comically wide open. “From… You’re not even the slightest bit worried?”

“I’m the one that could have ended up on a dinner plate. Does that creep you out?”

“Nick.”

“Look, when the FBI was debriefing me, they played recordings of his calls. Even in the lab, Grissom’s phone was always monitored, always taped.”

“But, Nick,” Catherine protested.

He shook his head, grinning. “I appreciate that you want to protect me… but it’s not necessary to do so from Gil.”

***

Nick was way past ready to leave for the day and tired. It was amazing how exhausting a little thing like your life being threatened could be. He refused to consider the idea that Grissom had ditched him, finally venturing into the portion of the building given over as temporary space for the FBI.

The profilers came to a full stop when Nick came in the room, only Dr. Reid continuing to scribble on a legal pad, phone pressed to his ear.

“Yeah, hi there. Have any of you seen Grissom lately?”

Spencer terminated his call, placing the phone absentmindedly parallel to the lines on his pad at the top of the page. “This is the last place he’d be.”

Nick frowned, shoving his hands in his pockets. “We may have a problem, then. I think he’s missing.”

“Missing?” Hotchner questioned.

“Maybe he went home,” Gideon offered. “His shift did end.”

Nick squinted slightly, vaguely entertaining the idea that he was being patronized. “I’m staying with him until Strowler’s apprehended,” he explained. “Since he’s not answering any of his numbers, he’s missing.”

The explanation was apparently convincing enough.

“See if he took any calls in the last hour,” Hotchner directed as he approached Nick. “You should take a seat,” he suggested. “If he is missing, protective custody would be safest for you.”

Morgan yelled from across the room. “Hotch!”

They all turned their attention to the black man.

“Department of Justice surveillance recorded a call on his personal cell. Garcia’s initiating a playback for us now.”

Nick gathered around the indicated laptop with the agents, ignoring the glances that suggested he back off. The voices that came from its speakers were a faintly staticky recording but clearly recognizable.

“Grissom.”

“Gilliam… How disappointed I am that you seem to be fostering an end to our agreement.”

“I had nothing to do with their arrival.”

“Is that so? Even with the return of the delectable Dr. Reid? Tell me, Gilliam… Does he make you long for a lost time? Or have you moved onto a more Texan menu?”

Spencer avoided eye contact with any of his coworkers. Nick flushed, eyeing the youngest agent with curiosity and the faintest tinge of jealousy.

“My personal life is none of your business, Hannibal.”

“Is it not? Perhaps if you no longer wish to honor our agreement, I should revoke my protection of dear Nicholas. Or renew our acquaintance in a closer fashion.”

“If you touch him, I’ll see you dead.”

Hannibal chuckled. The voice, even on audio playback, caused goosebumps to rise on more than one arm.

“Then join me under a flag of truce. Sterling Brunch, Ten AM.”

“It seems you’re the one in violation by being in Vegas.”

“Ah, but I only agreed to commit no crimes in your bourgeois metropolis and I haven’t. Yet.”

“What happens if I don’t come?”

“Guerra – Su voi entrambi.”

***

The maître d' looked up, eyes widening at the contingent of dark suited individuals accompanied by one younger man in a sport coat and one in jeans. It seemed odd that there was only one woman in the group, yet he was a professional.

“Do you have a reservation?”

Hotchner pulled a photo from his inside suit pocket, flashing the picture of Gil Grissom and his FBI identification simultaneously. “Have you seen this man?”

“Of course,” the man replied with smooth lack of offense. “He dined with Gregory Rimini.”

“When did they leave?” was the next abrupt question.

Now the restaurant employee was confused. “Professor Rimini departed not ten minutes ago. I believe Dr. Grissom is finishing his coffee.”

Nick made a noise of disgust and started for the dining room. The maître d' moved to intercept him.

“Sir, you can’t…”

“Fuck off,” Nick growled.

Spotting Grissom at a table, he wound through the room to stop, hands on hips, next to the supervisor.

“What the hell is your problem?!” Nick demanded.

Grissom’s hand stilled around his cup, eyes focused at Nick’s tone and the thickening accent.

“You just keep sitting down with these psychos. One of them’s gonna end up killing you!”

Gil’s head tilted to the side as he considered Nick. He raised his demitasse cup, sipping delicately. Nick stood there for a moment before throwing his hands up in disgust. He stomped back out of the restaurant, not noticing when Reid followed him.

Gideon slipped into the chair across from Grissom, slouching slightly with his hands folded on his chest. “Every time you talk to them, it changes the way you think.”

“If I allow it,” Gil admitted. His own posture was oddly formal, his movements almost delicate. “Tell me, Agent Gideon. You have the records on William and on Hannibal. Were they close… before?”

Jason arched an eyebrow and pursed his lips. “You mean before he gutted your brother with a linoleum knife?”

Grissom inclined his head slightly.

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

Gil wiped his hands and patted his lips with the napkin. “I don’t believe I need you to, no,” he said, standing. He stopped next to Gideon who was still seated and leaned over. “He asked me to join him, you see. To allow him to show me the world.”

A hesitation, then more, “I said no, of course.”

Jason shuddered as Grissom walked away.

***

Nick had left the dining room, passed through the foyer and agents hard at work, to stop only beside the government vehicle.

“Argh!” He punched the door panel, needing to release this worried frustration.

“An articular fracture can cause stiffness and loss of movement, neither of which is a good idea in your field of work. There are better ways to relieve aggravation.”

Nick cradled his admittedly sore fist and turned to Spencer. “Don’t you have work to do inside?”

Reid shrugged, ignoring the rudeness. “He’s an entomologist and forensic scientist but don’t ever forget he’s got a profiler’s mind.”

Nick scowled. “I’ve been working with him for the better part of a decade. Don’t try to tell me about Gil Grissom.”

Spencer stepped closer. He seemed innocuous but his voice was low and intense. “I’ve been his friend that long and was sleeping with him before. If you want your relationship to succeed, you need to understand he’s always going to be a little odd when trying to understand his opponent.”

Nick was flushed. “There isn’t a relationship.”

“But both of you want there to be.”

“How do you…”

Back to innocent with a simple shrug. “I’m a profiler. It’s my job to read people.”

They both turned as Grissom stepped out of the restaurant doors and into the Las Vegas morning sun. “Spencer?” he called.

“Yes?”

“Agent Hotchner would like you inside.”

Reid passed Grissom on his way in with only a slight glance. Gil approached Nick slowly, hands in his pockets. Nick watched him, silent and wary.

“You’re mad at me.”

Nick scoffed. “You had breakfast with a serial killer, Gris!”

Gil shrugged. “It was necessary.”

“Necessary?!”

Grissom stepped forward and Nick stepped back, his clothes brushing against the same door panel his hand had impacted so ineffectually.

“If breakfasting with Lecter secures your safety, then I will continue to do so. The understanding of before stands. He may be hunting Strowler, but you are safe.”

“What about you?” Nick asked.

“As long as I don’t threaten him, I’m safe.”

Nick released a pent up breath. He straightened, meeting Gil’s eyes steadily. “If he kills you, Gil… I will hunt him to the fucking ends of the earth.”

Nick watched Grissom’s pupils dilate even as he didn’t respond. With a small terse grin of resolve, he reached out and tangled his fingers in the short curls at the back of the older man’s head.

Gil was pulled without resistance to a full body contact with Nick. Nick shifted, trying to find a position where their respective guns, pagers, and cell phones weren’t poking uncomfortably. He kissed Grissom’s unresponsive lips. First peppering them with delicate touches, he decided to take advantage of his one opportunity and slipped the tip of his tongue inside Gil’s mouth.

He tasted like good coffee and expensive brandy, fruit and the faint floral of honey with a touch of the rich cream of fresh butter. Nick groaned as his tongue completed its short swipe and began to retreat.

In the next moment, he found himself forced bodily against the black vehicle, his mouth being possessed while Gil growled and rubbed against him. Nick merely held onto awareness as Grissom explored him. The man kissed like he worked, focused, intense, devastating. Nick yielded everything, spreading his legs and gasping as Gil’s settling between them brought their groins into direct contact.

The sound of a throat clearing brought them apart slowly, Grissom taking one last promising nip at his lover’s lower lip. Nick stared, dazed, over the man’s shoulder only to meet Spencer Reid’s beaming grin. The young agent looked like a person strongly repressing an ‘I told you so.’

Nick dropped his head to Grissom's shoulder, noting the man didn’t move back from him even as he inquired, “Yes, Spencer?”

“I’ve been asked to take you home.”

“To get me out of the way, more likely.”

“That too,” Spencer laughed, heading for the driver’s door.

Grissom shifted Nick off the vehicle and opened the door, waiting as he climbed inside. Nick frowned as he moved to close the door rather than join him on the seat. Gil shot a pointed look at their driver carefully adjusting his seat and mirrors.

“I think it's safer if I ride up front.”

Lifting an eyebrow, Nick asked quietly, “Flattery?”

Gil shrugged, an enigmatic smile twitching into place. “I’m capable of a great many things people never expect.”

Nick snorted as the door snapped shut.

***

“What do we know so far?” Hotchner asked, looking at each of the gathered agents in turn.

“That Reid’s a hell of a lot more precocious than we ever guessed?” Derek’s comment was a joke with a hard edge.

Gideon interrupted as Spencer blushed. “This one’s not like what we usually work.” He shrugged at the inquisitive looks. “There are no profiles needed. They’ve been done. We’re stuck waiting.”

Hotchner didn’t look happy. “Elle, what do we have on Kelly Gordon?”

She made a slight face. “Other than returning to work at the same nursery where CSI Stokes was kept, she’s done nothing out of normal. Surveillance continues to watch for Strowler to contact her.”

“And Strowler?” Aaron turned his attention.

Morgan stopped staring at Reid to answer. “We know he’s in the city but not where he’s staying. Garcia has all the usual routes flagged and we’re following up on possible sightings.”

“In the meantime, Hannibal Lecter is also hunting our target,” Gideon commented.

Hotchner shifted uneasily. “We have a request from the Director’s office to apprehend Dr. Lecter at all costs. It’s unknown when he’ll next be accessible.”

“We’re going to have damn little help on that,” Morgan commented. “The local PD knows the stories, they circulated last year. They don’t care if two criminals kill each other.”

Jason shrugged. “It’s our job.”

***

The moment they’d stepped inside his condo, both Gil and Nick seemed to recognize the weight of their actions. Grissom searched a mostly empty kitchen for decaffeinated tea or coffee before stilling as Nick touched his back.

“If you’re not comfortable with me here, I can find a hotel.”

“It’s not that,” Gil objected, turning.

Nick followed him to his loveseat, still standing as Grissom sat. “Then what is it?”

The older man looked up, frowning slightly. “You’re very young.”

“Excuse me?” Nick started to pace, upset. “There’s no way that FBI agent’s older than me and I’m too young?”

Gil closed his eyes for a moment. “Spencer was very young – too young – and I should have known better. I don’t want to hurt you, Nicky.”

Nick stopped, arms crossed over his chest. “What do you think you’re doing now? I wasn’t exactly looking for a one night stand, Gris.”

Gil crossed to the younger man and placed his hands on his shoulders, replacing them when Nick shrugged them off the first time. “I’m not good with people. You deserve better.”

Nick stared at him flatly. “Is it that you’re not good with people or that you’re afraid of becoming your brother?”

The slightest flinch around the eyes told Nick he’d hit a point. “Gris… Gil… You can let me in without letting all the rest consume you. You chose not to do the same work. Let me keep you safe.”

And without any further notice, it was Nick offering the comfort. He held Gil as the man shuddered in his arms, rubbing slowly up and down his back. “I think we could use some sleep, just sleep, for now.”

***

Jim was frowning as he reported to the FBI contingent. He didn’t like what they represented. He didn’t like why they were here. He especially didn’t like the likelihood that officers would die before they left.

“Strowler’s still holed up in his room at the Tangiers. The owner, Sam Braun, has ensured that we receive full cooperation from the staff. So far, room service three meals a day but he hasn’t budged.”

“Any sign of Gordon?” Gideon asked distractedly, reviewing a hotel security tape.

“She went into his room just before I came in.”

“If she leaves, have your men follow her,” Hotchner directed. “Tell them just to keep an eye on her until we have Strowler in custody.”

Jason looked up, forehead creased deeply with concern. “Any sign of Lecter?”

Jim sighed. “Every cop in that building has his picture and the warning not to attempt an apprehension without SWAT backup. He’s not there.”

The agents were standing, checking weapons and equipment.

“You should let Grissom and Stokes ride along on this one,” Jim finally added. “They need to see it end.”

Hotchner looked at Gideon who gave the slightest inclination of his head. “Have them meet us at the hotel, Detective Brass.”

***

The elevator disgorged the motley collection of FBI agents and crime lab personnel. Gil and Nick hung back as Hotchner conferred with Jim Brass and the officers watching the hall and stairs. At the end of the passageway, the door to Strowler’s suite opened and everyone fell quiet.

Their low-voiced conference came to a conclusion as the hotel employee pushed his cart into the hall and closed the door with the faintest click. He paid the police and FBI no attention as he pushed slowly by, whistling faintly. The room service trays were neatly covered with a cloth and worth little notice.

Gideon took his participation from the discussion for a moment to look over before returning back to the conversation. Nick and Gil were the last in the hall before the elevator. Nick stepped aside, automatically hitting the call button. But the employee's low-voiced, “Thank you, Nicholas,” as he boarded the elevator had him freezing in place.

Gil waited for the doors to close before stepping close and putting an arm around his shoulders. “It’s okay, Nicky. He wasn’t here for you.”

Clenching his jaw, Gil called out, “Agent Gideon.”

The agent in question looked up quizzically.

“This is unnecessary,” Grissom explained. “Strowler is dead. Kelly Gordon likely is as well.”

Gideon looked from Gil to the descending indicator light on the elevator. “Shit!” he cursed, walking quickly and stiff-legged with anger to Strowler’s suite.

The agents entered in a secure stance. The room was empty of life. No one occupied the sitting room or bedroom. But the dining nook table was set with flickering candlesticks and buffet dishes.

“Gordon’s dead in the bathtub,” Elle reported.

Hotchner looked at the table for a long moment before asking, “How did you know?”

“The whistling,” Gideon answered for Grissom. “I didn’t recognize the tune.”

Gil inclined his head slightly. “Arcangelo Corelli, Opus Two. It’s not exactly well known among the minimum wage service industry here in Las Vegas.”

Agent Morgan joined the others, having finished his sweep. “No sign of Strowler.”

Grissom turned away with the faintest of eye rolls. “You should call the lab and ask for Greg Sanders. He’s the most likely to get a viable DNA sample from the dishes.”

Nick turned green, clenching his teeth.

Gideon prodded a bowl with the end of his pen. “We need to prove they’re both here.”

Hotchner leaned over to look closer at the bowl’s contents. “What is that?”

“Two pituitary glands,” Jason answered. He lifted the dish in a newly gloved hand, sniffing delicately. “In a lime basil sauce.”

***

The agents and CSIs had the tired trudge of people who had arrived for a capture but were leaving twelve hours later after processing the crime scene. Greg Sanders wasn’t speaking to anyone, still green-tinged from the food samples that everyone knew would yield human DNA.

Gil flinched when the hotel shift manager called out, “Dr. Grissom!” He waited for the woman to approach, taking the creamy parchment envelope with resignation. Popping it open with a finger, he read through the neat copperplate lines quickly. Refolding it, he tucked it in the envelope and held it out to Agent Hotchner.

“I’m going home now and I’m going to take a few personal days. As soon as we have the DNA results, I would like you to leave.”

Turning, Gil led Nick out of the lobby and left the BAU personnel behind. Gideon took the envelope from Hotchner’s hand, snapping it open.

~Gilliam. As pleasant as it was to renew our acquaintance, I am quite pleased to put your crass city behind me. There is no debt for the service I have rendered you and Nicholas. A man of honor can do no less than ensure the continuing safety of those under his protection. Someday, it will be time for my return to your native shores. That day is not today and the time for my capture is not now. Yours, H.~

Gideon gazed sightlessly out at the lobby. “Henry Ward Beecher once said, ‘The power of hiding ourselves from one another is mercifully given, for men are wild beasts, and would devour one another but for this protection.'”

Shaking his head, he smirked slightly and mentally closed the case file on Charles Strowler.

***

Spencer had thought himself alone this late in their nest of offices. He’d let his guard down, exhaustion from the shift differential, time change, and emotional intensity of the case dragging at him. Thus, when the voice came out of the dark, his air caught in his throat and hand went to his gun.

“You were sixteen.”

“Christ, Derek!” Reid complained as he dropped into his chair.

Agent Morgan came into the faint light of the desk lamp, perching a hip on Spencer’s desk. “Barely sixteen. I pulled your personnel file.”

The younger agent didn’t even respond, fiddling with items on his desk.

“You should press charges.”

Reid’s head shot up finally meeting Derek’s dark eyes. “No! It wasn’t like that.”

“I don’t care how it was like, it was wrong.”

Spencer winced. “I’m sorry if my bisexuality makes you uncomfortable. I can ask that we be kept apart on assignments.”

“Jesus, Spence. How can you think that?”

Reid had looked away but now returned to staring at Morgan in confusion.

“I meant it was wrong for him to take advantage of you.”

Spencer shook his head, understanding escaping him. “He didn’t. He was the first guy but I’d already been with a girl. If anything, I took advantage of him. His brother had just killed himself and then I hurt him badly by coming here.”

Reid gestured to the dark expanse of offices and then stared at his hand where Derek had caught and held it.

“I don’t like to think about you being hurt.”

“Why?” Spencer asked faintly, still staring at his hand.

“You’re not a very good profiler, are you?” Morgan responded with a chuckle.

He pulled Spencer to his feet by his hand. Never releasing his grasp, he cupped his other hand at the young man’s chin. Spencer’s eyes were wide as Derek brushed their lips together gently once, twice, three times.

Then he was released.

“Go home and get some rest,” Derek called out, already disappearing back into the dark.


End file.
